


It Might Be a Kitten (But It Might Not)

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kittens, M/M, Post-Series, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 20:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13256499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: John stood and walked through the open doorway that connected their bedroom to the open space that had been converted into a sitting area. It took him a moment to spot Rodney, despite the open floor plan, and then it took him a moment longer to figure out what Rodney was yelling about.When he did, though.Well, John laughed. He didn’t mean to -- it was probably the combined lack of sleep and weird alien fumes from his last mission -- but he did. It was apparently the wrong response.





	It Might Be a Kitten (But It Might Not)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Okaycanyousee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okaycanyousee/gifts).



> More Holiday Fic! This one is also much overdue, but stuff happens. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Beta'd by the ever-wonderful dirty_diana.

“Colonel!”

John’s head snapped up and he looked around, blearily searching for the source of the noise. He hadn’t gotten to sleep until the sun had started to come back up, and from what he could tell, it hadn’t had the chance to rise very far since then.

“John!”

“Yes, what, okay,” John mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and letting that propel him fully upright. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” he called, running a hand quickly through his hair. 

“Get out here!” Rodney’s voice called. It had that little pinch to it that meant he was only just refraining from dragging John out of bed bodily, without any regard to how much that might hurt.

John stood and walked through the open doorway that connected their bedroom to the open space that had been converted into a sitting area. It took him a moment to spot Rodney, despite the open floor plan, and then it took him a moment longer to figure out what Rodney was yelling about.

When he did, though.

Well, John laughed. He didn’t mean to -- it was probably the combined lack of sleep and weird alien fumes from his last mission -- but he did. It was apparently the wrong response.

“Dammit, John!” Rodney yelled, gesturing at the massive spill of yarn. It really was impressive, covering at least ten square feet, at the center of which sat the kitten -- or kitten-like-thing -- Teyla had found a few missions ago and convinced them to adopt. 

She was still convinced that he and Rodney would be happier and more fulfilled with children. John had moved on from vehement denial to polite disagreement. It was easier than continuing to try to explain how intensely ill-suited he and Rodney were for caring for anything more complicated than their relationship. That on its own had terrifyingly frequent detours and side adventures.

“Seriously? You think this is funny?” Rodney asked, gesturing more violently at the ground.

“Yes,” John answered honestly. Perhaps masochistically, he headed forward anyway. “How’d he get into it?” He gestured at the yarn as he crouched down to start untangling the kitten. “I thought that basket was in the cabinet.”

“Obviously that’s not good enough,” Rodney said, throwing a hand in the direction of the cabinet. When John looked, he saw that the doors had been knocked open, and several things were displaced in a path to where the basket of yarn usually lived. “We’re going to have to find a lock or something.”

John plucked a strand of yarn from the kitten’s hind leg, just barely avoiding getting swiped by its claws. He was pretty sure it was a playful swipe, but he wasn’t taking that chance. “I’ll look into it,” John said, yawning into his elbow. He glanced up at Rodney. “Are you going to help?”

Rodney’s eyebrows rose. “Help? You’re the last one to have the yarn, this is your problem.”

“Really?” John asked, picking the kitten up around its middle and pulling the last strand off its tail. He handed the kitten to Rodney, who took it and cradled it like the kitten was the victim here. “I had the misfortune of not being psychic enough to keep the kitten out of the cabinet, so I get to untangle and sort a blanket’s worth of yarn?”

“Absolutely,” Rodney said, petting the kitten as he moved across the room to the couch. 

John looked over the yarn, then shrugged, balling it all up together.

“Hey!” Rodney yelled. “That’s just going to tangle it more!”

“Well,” John said, “if I’m the one untangling it, I guess that’s my problem, isn’t it?” He chucked the hastily grabbed yarn into the basket, then stood, hauling it with him. He walked the basket to the cabinet, then slid it on top. “And I’m going back to sleep.”

Rodney scowled. “When did you get back?” he asked, shifting on the couch so he was more fully facing John.

“No idea,” John said, stretching. “It was getting light out.”

“I told you to send someone else,” Rodney said, scowling harder.

“No, you told me to send Lorne,” John corrected. “I sent him. Now he’s in medbay with a broken foot, and I’m exhausted.”

“You could have sent someone else as a replacement,” Rodney argued, twitching his fingers for the kitten to play with.

“It was past dinner,” John said, shrugging. “I wasn’t pulling anyone back on duty.”

Rodney opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Fine,” he said, face souring.

John grinned. It wasn’t that Rodney agreed, but John appreciated the lack of arguing for whatever reason it had come about. “Thank you,” he said. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney agreed, continuing to play with the kitten. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Sounds good,” John agreed, heading back to bed. 

When he woke again, four hours later, feeling at least sort of rested, it was to the sight of Rodney blowing bubbles for the kitten to pop. Maybe they were a work in progress, but they were _his_ ridiculous work in progress.


End file.
